THE FORTUNE TELLER
by Donna McIntosh
Summary: Not much substance here; just a little Skinner/Kyrcek smut.


Title: THE FORTUNE TELLER

Title: THE FORTUNE TELLER

Author: Donna McIntosh

Email: 

Fandom: X-Files

Pairing: Skinner/Krycek

Genre: Slash

Rating: NC-17 FRAO

Warnings: Explicit sex scenes; bad language

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me; I make no money off of them. They just keep visiting me and whispering in my ear.

Summary: Not much substance here; must a little Skinner/Krycek smut.

THE FORTUNE TELLER

Walter wiped the dildo dry and tossed it and the lube into his lock box and returned it to its hiding place under the floor board in his bathroom cabinet; safely hidden underneath a stack of towels.

He straightened up and got a look at himself in the mirror and didn't like what he saw. He cursed. He cursed his luck, he cursed his bald head, he cursed his job, he cursed his life and he cursed the world. Walter Skinner was not a happy man.

Lying in bed between the cool sheets he stared at the ceiling and thought. It's just not right! He had done everything he thought was right. He had served his country, he had been true to his wife, he was the youngest AD ever in the history of the Bureau and he got there by following the rules. He had done everything he thought a man was supposed to do. Now here he was, fifty years old last birthday, and alone; bitterly, miserably alone.

He cursed again; his last thoughts before falling asleep.

He spent the next week watching the others making their way through the work days and wondering how they did it. How they managed to make lives for themselves. Henderson and his wife just had a new baby and he was happily passing out cigars, Parker just got a promotion and was bragging about his new office, Caroline and Elizabeth were openly living together and no one questioned or commented on it, Bradly just got back from vacation and had a deep tan, Cecily and Teddy were flirting at the water fountain. The whole world seemed to have a life; everyone but him. His life was this office and this desk and this pile of reports to work his way through.

He left work early. It was Friday night; he was hungry. He was going out and having a nice dinner then he was going to find somebody and get laid. He nodded to the guard at the gate. He knew exactly where he was going to go. He'd been there a few times before but never had the nerve to speak with anyone; at least no anyone he was interested in. Tonight he would. He'd find someone, walk right up to them and start a conversation. He worked on his opening line as he showered and changed into his tightest black jeans and green Henley.

He parked at the back of the mall and walked the four blocks to the small Jazz bar. The music was mellow; the booze was good, and the atmosphere calm. Several couples were slow dancing to the music while other sat at the small tables scattered around or in booths around the parameter of the dimly lit room. He took a booth in the back and sat and watched the couples dancing. He wondered if he could do that. He'd never danced with a man before but he knew he'd like to try. He'd probably be too awkward; step on the other guy's feet. He'd better forget that idea.

His eyes made their way around the room. Tonight seemed to be couples night. Everyone seemed paired up. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. Maybe he should try one of the other places down town.

He finished his drink and was about to leave when the waiter stopped and dropped a note on his table. Skinner opened it and read, "Looking for company? Try the door at the end of the hall."

He wadded the note up and scanned the room. No one seemed to be looking at him. He stood up, dropped a few bills on the table and considered his options. He could just walk out and go elsewhere, he could ignore the note, or he could take a walk down that hallway and see if there was anything interesting waiting there.

He stopped at the water fountain and got a few sips of water and glanced down the hall. He saw three doors; one marked 'RESTROOM', one marked 'EXIT' and the other with no markings at all. He stood in front of the door and wondered. He hadn't seen any singles come into the bar; it could be a couple in there wanting a threesome. He wasn't into that and if that was the case, he could just politely say 'no thanks' and leave. He took a deep breath, swallowed and knocked lightly on the door. It swung open slightly.

He walked into the room and found it empty. He closed the door behind him and looked around. It was obvious what the room was used for. There was nothing in it but a bed, a small table beside it with a low wattage lamp throwing a dim yellow glow over everything, and a couple of chairs. He heard the water running and saw a door off to one side that was partially open. He stood and waited; fear mingled with excitement.

The water was turned off and Alex Krycek walked into the room.

"KRYCEK! What the fuck?" Skinner's anxiety turned immediately to anger.

"Calm down! I'm here for the same reason you are – to get laid. What's the problem?"

"SHIT!" Walter reached for the door but something stopped him. On the little table beside the bed he noticed a condom and some lube. He whirled back. "You were pretty damn sure of yourself; weren't you?"

"Not at all. I had no idea you would be here; though I have seen you here before. I've never seen you here with anyone; and tonight looks to be mostly couples out there so I thought you might like some company." He pulled his shirt off over his head and tossed it to one of the chairs.

Skinner's breath caught in his throat and his groin twitched with anticipation. He turned away but couldn't manage to reach for that door knob. He glanced up again and Krycek was toeing out of his shoes and unsnapping his jeans. He looked quickly away. He couldn't do this; not with Krycek. Not in a million years would he have ever dreamed that something like this would come up but here he was; and there Krycek was; offering him sex. Real live flesh and blood sex. Not a plastic dildo, not a magazine and his good right hand but hot sweaty sex with another man.

He heard the jeans come off and he turned to the door. He couldn't reach for it; couldn't open it. A warm arm slid around him and a hand caressed his chest. He was riveted by equal measures of fear and desire. "Not Krycek! Please not Krycek." His brain whispered a silent prayer but he couldn't move; couldn't stop that hand that was working at his belt, opening his jeans. He couldn't deny the warm body pressing against him and he reached out a hand; not for the door knob but to steady himself. He pressed back against the heat behind him and moaned his pleasure as the hand slid beneath his jeans and claimed his cock.

His jeans were shoved down as was his under wear, a strong plastic arm held him tightly while the warm flesh and blood hand slid up underneath his shirt and gently pulled on his nipples. He gasped as a warm mouth made its way up the side of his neck and sucked on an ear lobe. He was losing it fast, his hips pressing against Krycek's hand in a rhythmic motion.

Krycek left him momentarily and his absence was painful. In less than a minute he was back again and pressing something cool and wonderful into Skinner's crack. When the finger entered him, he thought he might pass out from the pleasure. He couldn't remember anything ever feeling that good. Then the second finger entered him and he pressed back, both hands flat against the door for support.

When the fingers were withdrawn, he groaned his disapproval until he felt Krycek at his entrance pushing in slowly, gently. The pain was almost as excruciating as the pleasure. He panted and gasped and tried to relax but he just wanted to push back; to take it all in.

They stood very still for a moment as Krycek caressed his chest and cock. He felt like he might explode from the pressure or the pain or the ecstasy; he didn't know which and he didn't care.

Krycek started to move then very gently while holding firmly to Walter's hips; each stroke complete and deep. Skinner groaned his approval. In moments the speed increased; Krycek slipped his hand around front and worked Skinner's cock until he screamed his release. A few more strokes and Krycek finished, pulled out and went into the bathroom.

Skinner stood against the door trembling; gasping for air. Krycek returned with a wet cloth and wiped Skinner clean then pulled up his clothing. Skinner regained his senses then, righted his jeans and left the room. He stumbled into the men's room and sagged against the sink. He ran water and splashed some on his face. He wiped himself dry with the paper towels, tucked his shirt in, buckled his belt and walked out. He used the EXIT door and was outside in the alley. He walked the four blocks to the mall and got back into his car and drove home.

He refused to think about it. He refused to dwell on it. It had finally happened. He had dreamed about it for years, fantasized about what it would be like; but never in a million years had he imagined it would be with Alex Krycek! He crawled into bed and fell asleep with a grin on his face.

The next morning he wasn't grinning. He was sore as hell, disgusted with himself and full of regrets. Hell, Krycek could have spread it all over town; he could have had cameras in that room, he might hear from him at any minute with black-mail on his mind.

He was angry and furious with himself. But every once in a while, when he let his guard down, he remembered the pleasure and he knew without a doubt he had never come that hard before; never experienced sex in every pore of his body before and he'd smile. He also knew he'd do it again; first chance he got.

Walter went back to that club several times after that night but didn't see Krycek there. He even went into the back room a few times with different men but it was never anywhere near as good as it had been with Krycek. He tried a few other places but found nothing that really interested him. He knew what he wanted now and it scared, sickened and excited him. He wanted Krycek. He wanted him desperately but he hadn't seen him in weeks.

It was cold and snowing and miserable in Chicago. He finished his seminar on security and made his way back to his hotel. The dinner was good but he ate it alone in his room. He had no desire to go out in this weather to the local night spots for companionship. He watched the late news and went to bed.

He was sleeping, face down, and dreaming. He could feel the weight on his back and the damp kisses against his neck. Hands roamed over his body, fingers entered him and he pushed back against them.

"Up on your knees," the voice whispered and he obliged, resting his head against his pillow. He was entered then; slowly, gently; as kisses were scattered across his shoulders and the back of his neck. The warm hand engulfed him then and he pumped rhythmically into it. "Aaaahhhh" he sighed. "Where have you been?"

"Around," Krycek whispered as he licked an ear lobe and began the slow even thrusts. In seconds he had Skinner moaning as they were carried away in a fury of passion. The total perfection of their coupling could not have lasted long. It went off like a Roman candle; flashed with agonizing pleasure, then settled gently again into the darkness.

Krycek went into the bathroom and came back with a wash cloth and towel. He wiped Skinner down then pulled on his hip to roll him over. Skinner obeyed and his front was cleaned as well. Krycek toweled him dry then pulled the covers back up to his waist.

They stared at each other for several seconds then Krycek started to say something, thought better of it, and got up and started dressing.

"What?" Skinner asked.

"Huh?" Krycek asked as he pulled on his black jeans and shirt and reached for his shoes.

"You started to say something." Skinner prompted.

"It wasn't important."

"Then why not say it?"

Krycek stared at him for a moment then said, "I was going to ask you for a kiss. Just one; that's all I ask."

Skinner didn't know what to say so he just nodded his head; affirmative.

Krycek walked back to the bed and sat down. He reached his hand to Skinner's cheek and leaned in and brought their lips together. It was warm and sweet with just the tiniest movement between them then it was over. His hand withdrew slowly, trailing his finger tips over Walter's lips.

Krycek stood up quickly, picked up his jacket and put it on. He stopped at the door and turned back. "I waited eight years for that kiss." He said then added, "It was worth the wait." Then he opened the door and disappeared.

Skinner lay there several seconds before slowly bringing his hand up to his lips and touching them gently as Krycek had. Krycek kissed him! Alex Krycek kissed him!

Skinner awoke the next morning to his alarm and hurried to dress and catch his plane. He was back in D.C. in time for lunch and afternoon meetings. His world went on. Weeks went by without any sighting or mention of Alex Krycek. Skinner frequented a few clubs, made a few acquaintances and even had sex now and then but it was no use. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't forget Alex. He tried to put him out of his mind, tried hard to remember all the things he hated about him and even managed to curse him a few times but when he was alone in bed at night, just before sleep; the sweet taste of Alex Krycek came to him; the feel of their lips together haunted him. He was tormented with regret that he had ever let the likes of Alex Krycek kiss him! What was he thinking?

It was bad enough that he had let Krycek fuck him; but kiss him? He must have been out of his mind!

"Oh, Mr. Skinner! I'm so glad you could come. Please come in. Everyone's out on the patio." Margaret Scully welcomed Skinner into her home.

"I can't stay very long but I wanted to give Dana this," he handed the small package with the pearl ear rings to her mother.

"Oh, you've got to stay for just a bit! Come on; I know they'll love to see you." She led him by the arm through the living room and out on the gaily decorated patio where people were gathered talking and laughing.

"Sir! I'm so glad you could come." Scully greeted her boss.

"It's Walter, Dana; as long as we're not at the Hoover." Skinner greeted the birthday girl.

"Thank you, Sir … er … Walter. I'd like that." She smiled up at him.

Mulder came by and placed a drink in his hand and he was whisked off and introduced to Dana's family and friends. Several he already knew from work. He made the rounds and was just about to try and make a get away when an old woman, looking to be at least a hundred years old was wheeled out on the patio in a wheel chair. Everyone stopped talking and turned to her.

Dana's mother spoke to the group and announced that Madame Juilanna LaBeaux, a well known touch Physic was there and would speak to any one who wished her readings. A small crowd circled her chair, effectively cutting off the pathway through the house and to freedom. Skinner found a seat in the shade and waited for his opportunity to leave. He had plenty of other things he could be doing on a Saturday afternoon; though he couldn't think of any at the moment.

He watched and listened as the people "ohhhed" and "aaahhhed" over everything the old woman said. It was easy enough to see that she was blind but each person was taken by the hand and spoken softly to.

Dana's brother Bill stood with Skinner for a moment, quietly mentioning his extreme dislike for Physics in general. Skinner had to agree with him on that point, otherwise he cared very little for this particular Scully.

The crowd around the old woman gradually dispersed and was again milling about the back yard. Skinner headed towards the house and freedom when Margaret Scully captured him again.

"Oh, Mr. Skinner; you haven't met Madame Juilanna yet. Please come say a few words to her." She pulled him towards the old woman.

"I really should be going," he tried to avoid the encounter.

"Let him go. If he doesn't want to talk to me; I don't want to talk to him!" Madame Juilanna said.

Skinner smiled. "It's not that I don't want to talk with you …"

"It's all right. No need to apologize. I'm sure there are many here, much more attractive than I for a young man to spend his time with."

Margaret and Skinner both chuckled and he stopped for a moment in front of the old woman.

"Well, sit! I can't stand it when people just tower over me." The frail old woman said.

Skinner sat down in the chair everyone else had used to speak with her.

"So you don't believe in Physics?"

"I'm sorry. No offense intended. It's just that I work for the F.B.I. and we are debunking this sort of thing every day of the week." Skinner smiled at her.

"That's OK. No offense taken. I know there are a lot of quacks out there and I, for one, am glad you're hunting them down and putting them out of business. But you don't know me; there's no way you could possibly know if I'm a fake or not." She cleared her throat and went on. "I take no money for what I do. I never have and I never will. I don't go on TV, I don't write no books, I don't swear that what I say is so. I just tell what I see. Most of it comes true; some of it don't. I don't tell no lies. I don't make stuff up. My daddy'd come up out of the ground and get me if I made stuff up. People find pleasure in what I do, they invite me to their little parties and I usually end up with a free meal. That's about it."

"And do you tell only the good stuff or the bad stuff as well?" Skinner asked.

"I don't like talking about the bad stuff. Times are hard enough on folks. I try to concentrate on the good things but if I see sickness or evil I do give warnings."

Skinner decided what the hell and reached out his hand. She took it in both of hers. She sat very still for quite a while and he thought she might have dozed off. When she finally spoke she startled him, "Why are you so unhappy?" she asked.

"I … a …I didn't say anything about being unhappy."

"You didn't have to. I see it. I feel it. You are such a foolish person!"

He started to pull his hand back but she held on. "You hate your job, yet you keep on doing it year after year. You dislike most of the people you associate with but you think you should keep on with your work."

"Everyone needs to work." Skinner said looking around and wishing someone would come rescue him from this woman's grip.

"Rubbish! You've done your share! It's time for you to relax and have a little fun in your life. Let someone else carry the burden for a while. Life is too short, young man and you are letting it pass you by!"

"What else would I do?"

"You could do whatever the hell you wanted to do! Take a lover! You've got to be one of the loneliest souls I've ever read!"

Skinner smiled and glanced around; glad no one else was close enough to hear what she was saying.

"It's not that easy." he protested.

"Hell, life isn't easy! What are you waiting for? One of these days you'll be old like me and you'll regret all those missed opportunities! Then it'll be too late!"

"I'd like to meet someone …"

"You've already met him."

"Huh? Who?"

"The person you are supposed to be with. What do they call it now a days? Oh yeah, your soul mate."

"I've already met … him?"

"You have. He knows you're the one but you're still floundering around in the dark."

"I don't suppose you could give me a name?" Skinner asked quietly.

"I don't get names, Honey; just images. He's a handsome thing; reminds me of my third husband; or was it my fourth; can't remember. Anyway, he's big; nearly as tall as you and he has wonderful green eyes that see right through you. He knows you, he knows what you like, he knows what you want and he knows you don't like him. What the hell's the matter with you?"

Skinner chewed his bottom lip and tried for an answer. "I don't know. Can you tell me anything else about him?"

"Nope! Just what you already know. He keeps popping in and out of your life like a Jack in the Box; hoping and praying you'll see how much he cares for you. Each time you don't, he disappears again."

"And if this … person doesn't exactly have the best reputation; you still think I should … go for it?"

"Shit! You only live once. What have you got to loose? The respect of some people that you don't care for in the first place? Hell, I'd go for it."

"You're an amazing woman," Skinner said.

"Yeah, I know. And if I was fifty years younger I'd go for you myself and you could damn well be sure you'd never know another lonely night! But then again, I'm not built right for what you need."

Skinner dropped his head and blushed; looking around to make certain no one had heard.

"Bottom line here, Mr. Skinner, is that what she said your name was?"

Skinner said, "uh huh."

"Bottom line is this: You're lonely and miserable. You hate your life. You need to do two things and I guarantee you will find happiness. First of all, quit that job you hate so much; and second of all, next time your little Jack in the Box shows up; grab onto him and don't let go! That's all I got to say to you." She let go of his hand then.

"Thank you, Madame Julianna. I will certainly take your words under advisement."

"Spoken like a true businessman. Dump the job and get a life. It's up to you."

Margaret Scully came up to them then and Skinner told her he was leaving, waved his good-bye across the lawn to Dana and Mulder and headed home. He thought about the conversation all the way home. He was still thinking about it thirty days later when he walked into Cassidy's office and turned in his resignation.

"What the hell is this all about?" She tossed the letter down on her desk angrily.

"Just what it says. I'm retiring. Effective today. I've filled out all the paperwork, signed all the papers and I'm out of here."

"And just what are you going to do with yourself? Play golf? Join a Bridge club? Come on, Skinner. You'd hate that kind of life and you know it."

"My plans are on a need to know basis and you don't need to know!" He said with a smile and walked out of her office. It felt good to throw that line back at her that she had used on him so many times over the years.

He arrived at his new home at dusk and sat in his truck and watched as a squirrel raced across his front porch. He climbed out and stood and stared at the old house. "Well, you may be eighty five years old but I'm betting you've got some life left in you."

He unloaded his new tool box and tools and carried them all into the house. It smelled like rain so he fiddled with the old gas heater until he got it to come on and take the chill out of the air; at least in the living room. He could light a fire in the fire place; the Real Estate lady assured him it was in working order but he didn't want to try it out until he had had the time to check it out himself first.

He spent his first evening putting together his tool boxes and opening and organizing his new tools. He slept on the couch that had been left there and managed to spend a relatively comfortable night. The next morning he headed straight for town, hit a Sears and bought a king sized mattress, box springs and frame. He worked for a couple of hours cleaning out the largest bedroom; moving all the old furniture that was left behind out of the way; taking down cob webs and musty old drapes and window shades. He mopped the floor, washed the windows and scrubbed the bathroom across the hall. Once the floor was dry he hauled his bed up stairs and put it together then brought in an old dresser that had been left there. It wasn't in too bad a shape and had nice lines to it. He thought he might re-finish it later on. He cleaned it thoroughly then carried up some of his boxes and unloaded the one marked linens. He made up his bed and got clean towels into the bathroom.

His next project was the kitchen. He scrubbed all the cabinets, inside and out; tossing various pieces that were left, into the trash. He tried the electric stove and found it worked, as did the refrigerator; more or less. They were pretty old though and he made a mental note to replace them.

Then it was on to the fireplace. He tossed in some branches and some pieces of cardboard and lit them. He watched carefully to see if it was drawing properly and saw that it was so the second night, he had a fire. There was plenty of firewood around the place; he just need to go out and collect it and cut it to size. He did that the next morning after breakfast and tried out his new chain saw and log splitter. A few hours later he had a nice stack of firewood on the side porch.

His days were filled with cleaning; repairing and doing all the things it takes when you move into a new place. Some of the old furniture that was left, he used; the rest he hauled into town to Goodwill. His evenings were spent in front of the fireplace with pad and pencil planning all the things he wanted to do to the house and a time frame for accomplishing each item.

He decided to work on the kitchen first and decided this was his chance to have that gourmet kitchen he had so often thought about over the years. He used to like to cook but Sharon had always frowned on that and insisted he let their cook do it. He measured and planned and figured things out and decided the best way to go was to gut the entire place and start from scratch. He bought a small Coleman camp stove and set up on the old wooden table in the dining room and used that temporarily to cook on. He shoved the refrigerator into the dining room also and hauled the old stove to Goodwill. All the cabinets were pulled out, the old wall boards were taken town, and the stained and cracked linoleum pulled up.

The electrician and the plumber that he had called the first day finally showed up and got to work. He had all the old wiring taken out and replaced and updated as well as all the old plumbing removed and replaced with new.

He kept busy from the time his feet hit the floor in the morning until he fell into bed at night exhausted. And every night; every single night he thought about what the old woman said. "Quit your job; get a life" and he whispered to her. "I did it. I quit my job. Where is he?" His last thoughts every night just before he fell asleep were of warm sweet lips pressed against his.

The day he finished up with the insulation and the new wall boards for the kitchen, he was busy cleaning up when he shoved some small pieces down into his trash can, forgetting for a moment that he had broken a glass earlier in the day, and sliced his finger open on the broken pieces.

"Fucking shit!" he howled as he jerked his hand back and the blood started flowing. He spun around trying to find something to stem the flow with but could find nothing. He held it with his left hand and tried to decide whether to make the trip up stairs to the only working bathroom or to head outside to the hose; all the while he was wondering where he put his first aid kit.

A moment later, Alex was standing there beside him. "Let me see," he said and Walter let go with his left hand and the blood spattered and dripped to the floor.

"I need to find the first aid kit."

"No. You need to get into my truck so I can take you into town. You need stitches. Don't you have a towel or something?"

"Yes, a towel; good idea. Over there. No, that one's dirty."

"Where's the bathroom?" Alex asked.

"Up stairs, end of the hall on the right."

Alex took the stairs two at a time and was back down with a wet rag and a towel. He wiped at the wound with the wet rag then wrapped it around the finger tightly and covered it with the towel. He practically pulled Walter out of the house and shoved him into his pickup and took off for town.

"Where did you come from?" Walter asked once they were on the road.

"Well my mother used to tell me the stork brought me but I never really believed that." Alex grinned over at him.

"How did you know where to find me?"

"I always know where you are."

They drove a while in silence as Walter kept pressure on the wound. The little community hospital was on their side of the town and in minutes they were pulling up outside. They walked quickly into the Emergency room where Walter was looked after immediately and had six stitches to close the wound. Back on the road again, Walter commented on the truck.

"Nice truck."

"Thanks." Alex gripped the steering wheel and kept his eyes on the road and didn't speak again until they took the turn off to Walter's house.

"So, you want to tell me how you managed to nearly slice your finger off?"

"I had broken a glass earlier in the day and tossed it in the trash and forgot about it. I was just cleaning up for the day and shoving some things in the trash and pushing it down and it got me."

"Why don't you hire all that work done?"

"I could; but I kind of like doing it myself."

"And you're First Aid kit?"

"I have one. I just didn't remember where I put it when I needed it." Walter defended himself as they turned off into the driveway.

"Rule #1. Always keep a first aid kit close by when you're working." Alex recited.

"What's Rule #2?" Walter asked as they entered the house and he turned and seized Alex and kissed him."

"Always keep plenty of lube on hand." Alex answered and went back for another kiss.

An hour later Walter was sprawled out on his bed naked and Alex was wiping him clean. He watched silently as black jeans were pulled on then boots and last of all a black t-shirt was tugged on.

"So now you're just going to disappear out of my life again?" Walter asked.

"Do I have a choice?" Alex asked as he reached for his jacket.

"You could stay." Skinner's head tilted to the side and a muscle under his eye twitched as he spoke, not really daring to hope.

"For how long?" Krycek asked..

"As long as you wanted to."

Krycek leaned back against the dresser and stared at him. "We've got a lot of baggage."

"It's in the past. The old man's in the ground now from what I hear. You're not working for him any more are you?"

"Nope. He's gone. Cremated. I made sure of that."

"Good."

"You want me to stay?"

"Sure. Why not? You never can tell when I might need another ride into the Emergency Room."

"I can see now, I need to get on line and buy a major first aid kit." Alex grinned over at him.

"One question though." Walter asked.

"What would that be?"

"How did you know what I wanted … sexually, I mean?" Walter was embarrassed asking but he had to know.

"Would you believe me if I said a Fortune Teller told me?"

"A Fortune Teller?" Walter grinned.

"Uh huh. I met her in a liquor store. Sweetest little thing you could imagine; must have been a hundred years old and in a wheel chair. I held the door open for her and she insisted on giving me a reading."

"What did she say?"

"She held my hand for a long time and I thought she'd gone to sleep. Then she said the man of my dreams was within my reach and all I had to do was reach out and take him. She said I would have to take him as he would not be able to do it because of bad blood. I thought she was just some nut and then that very night, I ran into you over at Sonny's. I had seen you there many times before but never dared to make the first move. Then I thought about her words and I sent you that note. Her words kept haunting me, 'you'll have to reach out and take him'. I didn't know what she meant until that night. That was the night all my wildest dreams came true."

"Mine too. I just never dreamed it would be with you."

"Can you live with that? Or will you be dredging up the past every time we have a fight?"

"Hell, I don't know. I'm just floundering in the dark here. I know I want you to stay. I want to try and see if we can build something together. Are you interested?"

"Uh huh. Your house, you get to make the rules. If I can live with them; I'll stay. If I can't; I'll leave. Deal?"

"Deal. Now get your clothes off and get back in bed. There's only going to be one rule around here and that's this: Once is never enough!"

THE END


End file.
